At the End of All Things
by aholeintheground
Summary: SPOILERS for the battle of five armies, Thorin, Fili, and Kili's final moments in battle "He took Kili's still warm hand in his own. 'Brother,"'he whispered, coughing up blood as he spoke, 'Brother, it comforts me more than you know, to be beside you here at the end of all things.'"


**Disclaimer: I own none of these characters or situations.**

**Also, I'd like to add that this is not exactly how it goes in the book, Fili and Kili are initially supposed to die around an injured Thorin, but I kind of wanted it to end this way so I wrote this to get rid of all of my sad feels after seeing the hobbit movie, which of course was a fail because I was like sobbing writing this. Anyway, just wanted to give a heads up! **

Thorin

The sound of battle beat through Thorin like a massive, cosmic heartbeat. He almost grinned fiercely as he brought Orcrist down in a deadly arc. It sliced effortlessly through an orc's neck, but Thorin didn't wait to see the head drop- he was already spinning to engage with another foe before it hit the ground. He was surprisingly light on his feet for a dwarf. If it hadn't been for his height, of course, they wouldn't have even known he was a dwarf. He carried himself like a mighty king. And he would have been a great one too. But fate was giving up on him this time. He slashed and cut with a fury- this was his home, and he'd be damned if anyone were going to take it from his people again. But the battle was not just beginning- it had been hours, his armor was stained with blood, black and red soaking into his tunic below, and his arms were growing tired. More often, he sloppily blocked a heavy blow and thought, "If that had been any closer…"

Fili

A sudden, familiar cry broke through above the repetitive pounding of steel on steel on flesh.

He smashed his fist into the goblin's jaw and crushed his skull with the hilt of his sword.

"Kili! KILI!"

He swung his sword around his body, keeping the goblins around him at bay, searching frantically for his brother.

He finally spotted him, back pressed against a rocky outcropping, an orc's dirty fist choking the life out of him. As if in a dream, Fili ran at them, hearing nothing, seeing nothing but his brother's dark eyes, slowly starting to lose their shine.

Kili

He could feel his eyelids trying to shut, betraying him and his fierce desire to live. The hands at his throat were clenching and the nails were digging in, but he could barely feel it now. He was slipping away and all he was starting to feel was a dim exhaustion in every cell of his body…he didn't want to die like this, but he was so…tired…

Fili

"No!" He slammed his shoulder into the orc, sending them both tumbling to the ground. Without missing a beat, Fili somersaulted, landing in a crouch, sword ready. The orc was lumbering along, trying to pull himself off the ground, but Fili wasn't going to give him the chance to recover. His sword hummed like flies circling a rotting corpse as it sliced the orc in half.

FIli looked around, making sure he wouldn't be ambushed, then ran to where his brother lay crumpled on the ground.

Thorin

His arms felt like lead now, but still they kept coming. Balin was to his left, looking as young as Thorin had felt a few hours ago, and Bofur was swinging an axe to his right like he had been born with it in his hands. He felt a sudden rush of affection for them. The fields around his beloved mountain were muddy with blood and sweat and it wasn't all from the orcs and goblins. He never doubted this quest for a second, but as he saw his fellow dwarves dying around him, felt Orcrist growing heavier in his hands by the minute…he just wished it didn't have to be this way. He just wanted to go home. He just wanted to finish this, wanted to give his people the home that had been stolen from them. He just hadn't wanted to pay for it with blood.

An orc was walking his way, laughing, blood dripping down his delirious face, swinging his wickedly curved blade in an X around his body. Nothing seemed to touch him as he made his way through the crowd.

Thorin looked around him, trying to stay alert. There was no one else, miraculously, within range. But he took too long checking his surroundings. A flash of silver in the corner of his eye was all he saw-

Fili

I just saved Kili and, bloody hell, I turn around and Uncle Thorin's about to be cut into pieces!

Fili gave Kili's hand a squeeze- he was all right, a bit faint, but he'd be okay- and ran to intercept the orc's blade. It worried him how slow Thorin was reacting, how tired he looked. The weight of his birthright had never felt so heavy, never seemed so real as when he looked at Thorin and thought he might not make it.

The orc was gaining on both of them though- Fili's first blow hadn't been enough to do much but throw him back a few paces. What worried Fili the most, though, were the orcs and goblins behind them. And to the right. And left. So many of them, maybe too many.

FIli grabbed Thorin and pulled him towards the rocky outcropping where he had left Kili. Kili looked up at him, and for a moment all Fili saw was the little boy that used to run into his room too early on Durin's Day hours before their parents were up, face lit up with excitement. His heart felt like it was breaking. He had never wanted to see that little boy on a battlefield.

The three of them stood in a small triangle, back to back, in front of the rocks, and watched the enemy advance.

Kili was the first to go.

Somewhere in his shattered heart, Fili knew it would always be this way. His brother had the least amount of battle experience, the least life experience. It wasn't fair. Fili screamed as the blade stabbed through Kili's heart, felt it more than Kili did, maybe. He thought the grief would be a slow burn, but it lit him from the inside like a flaming torch. He bellowed with pure, unfiltered rage and ran forward, cutting and screaming, the blood running down his arms in rivers. He wanted to run and run and run and not look back, just run and kill and die. But Thorin stood beside him, so he put that thought away and settled back into a battle crouch. But every punch, slash, and cut was for Kili. And then there was one enemy that got too close. And he felt the razor sharp knife slide between his ribs. Felt the blood gushing out of him and onto his hands, his armor, the ground as he sank to his knees…oh God, there was so much blood…and he was laying on his back and it was dark but at least there were stars. He took Kili's still warm hand in his own.

"Brother," he whispered, coughing up blood as he spoke, "Brother, it comforts me more than you know, to be beside you here at the end of all things."

Thorin

Thorin still stood, the lone dwarf, his back to the rocks, his nephews' bodies at his feet. He could not stop fighting, could not let that damn sword drop for one second or the grief would take him like a giant sweeping wave and he would lose it. He felt the anger that Fili had felt coursing through his veins, a hot rush in his ears. But unlike Fili he had no King to protect. He could have run if he wanted to, could have run from that rock screaming and taken maybe fifteen, twenty down before they overran him, overwhelming him by the strength they had in numbers. What absolutely crushed him though was that this was how it was going to end. For all the heart of the dwarves, for all their courage, they couldn't beat that never ending swell of evil. For every orc or goblin he cut down it seemed another stood in his place, the same expression on its face, the same filth inside and out. Fili was still writhing in pain on the ground, grasping Kili's hand like a lifeline, tears streaking through the battle grime on his face. Every time he coughed or sobbed, another rivulet of blood spurted shallowly and spread across his chest. He's so red…Thorin smashed his gauntlet against the helm of an orc, momentarily stunning him, then stabbed him through the chest…there's red all over my nephew and I can't do anything to stop it. Still he fought on, but tears mixed with sweat and dirt and blood on his face. Fili's words echoed in his mind as one orc from behind, the coward, stabbed him in the back. Here at the end if all things… He dropped to his knees, and his world was pain and the wet red blood soaking his back that he couldn't see and Fili reaching out to grasp his hand too, trying to offer him comfort, but choking on every word, death shoving the words back down his throat. His breathing was growing heavier and harder to manage, and Thorin grasped his hand all the harder, as if he could hold his soul here, his life here until help arrived. But a small part of him knew that it wouldn't arrive in time. And Fili's eyes closed for the last time. Thorin was pulled to his knees by a rough hand in his hair. He was only vaguely aware of the sharp blade pressed to the back of his neck. He didn't scream or struggle. He just looked at Fili and Kili whispered a silent apology. He wished so much better for them. At least they had died heroes. And then the orc raised him arm, then slammed the blade home. Thorin's body fell to the ground. All they had wanted was the head…nothing attached.


End file.
